


home is where the heart is

by sadie18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bets & Wagers, Christmas, Crushes, Drarry, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fist Fights, Flintwood, Flowers, Fluff, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, Language of Flowers, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mistletoe, Multi, Pining, Young Love, house swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadie18/pseuds/sadie18
Summary: as a part of a house unity exercise, oliver is put in slytherin.this doesn't fare well for his nerves; after all, he's been denying he's liked marcus for years-





	home is where the heart is

**Author's Note:**

> come chat on tumblr @oliivverwood!
> 
> alternatively, this is a story of dumb older boys (marcus and oliver), dumb younger boys (harry and draco) and smart girls (hermione and astoria)
> 
> huge thank you to ez (their tumblr: @rlversongs) (with an l not a 1 or an i because i make that mistake literally every time) for proof reading for me because im dumb!

When McGonagall announced an inter-house unity exercise, a _long term one_ , Oliver almost started to cry.

He had no time for frolicking with Hufflepuffs and chatting with Slytherins, plus his NEWTs were coming up, _shit_. Oliver was in a foul mood, yes, but this was just the frosting on the cake.

His dread grew worse 'till it settled in the pit of his stomach as he sat in the Great Hall, awaiting McGonagall's explanation. To say he was furious was an understatement. 

He glanced at a familiar figure across the hall, then berated himself for thinking about him, and began to feel sick.

 _'This is overreacting.'_ Oliver thought to himself rationally. He was just stressed- with school, with the team, with seventh year, really.  _'Get it together._ '

Oliver blamed it on his recent sleepless nights. He had a lot of things to think about.

He glanced at Marcus Flint again, and snapped his neck back to McGonagall, fighting the urge to look again. 

"This exercise is going to last for around five months, starting now." She said grandly, and the hall tittered with nerves and excitement. Not Oliver, though. He just started to feel a headache coming on.

"There is going to be a couple rather  _influential_ figures throughout the student body that will be- ah- swapping houses. They are expected to set a shining example of inter-house unity, and should know, this will contribute to their future reference letters for further education and job pursuits. "

Dead silence rang through the hall. Oliver's headache pounded noiselessly in his head, and knew his dread had meant something.

He would just have to pray that Quidditch Captain wasn't an influential position enough position to swap houses. 

"This is an activity we conduct every ten years, depending on how- _hm_ \- necessary the unity is needed." she continued, and pulled out a list from her robes. "I too was a part of the activity in my time at Hogwarts. Especially after the events of last year, with the Chamber of Secrets. But considering that You-Know-Who has been vanquished, I'm still surprised to see the animosity at such violent levels. It seems that your group is considerably foul towards each other."

Ouch. Blunt, as always.

He glanced at Marcus.  _Fuck, not again._

"Hufflepuffs will be swapping with Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors with Slytherins."

Then the groans ensued. Oliver noted Draco Malfoy fuming. He was cheeky for a third year, had some balls being such a twat all the time. Oliver might have hated him more if he didn't know that he and Harry were obviously obsessed with each other.

She opened up the folded list, and with as much intimidation as she could muster (which was quite a bit), she began.

"Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff, and Roger Davies, Ravenclaw."

Cedric grumbled; he was switching with his boyfriend, after all- no change there, they were still in different houses. Their robes magically switched colors; Cedric was now donning the Ravenclaw blue and silver, and Roger Davies wore yellow and black.

"Hannah Abbott, Hufflepuff, and Cho Chang, Ravenclaw."

And the list went a little like that. When McGonagall got to the Slytherins and Gryffindors, that's when the hall waited with bated breath.

"Hermione Granger, Gryffindor, Blaise Zabini, Slytherin."

The bushy haired younger girl, for the first time Oliver had ever heard,  _swore._ "Bloody _fucking_ hell! _M_ _e,_ of  _all_ people."

The professors tutted, but chose to not make any comment. Hermione was looking livid.

She grabbed her bags and irritably stomped over to the Slytherin table, who were as shocked and confused at McGonagall's choice, and even more so at Hermione's reaction. They were so shocked, they didn't even say a word when she plopped herself down at the end of the table, next to a bored looking Theo Nott and across from a nonplussed Astoria Greengrass. Clever choice by Hermione. Green didn't particularly suit her, though.

"Daphne Greengrass, Fred Weasley."

George guffawed at the paled face of his twin, and Oliver's teammate, and a thought crossed his mind. "Professor!" 

His voice rang out through the hall, and everyone turned their attention to him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt very small.

"What about quidditch?" He called out. "Who's team do they play for?"

McGonagall smiled as if she'd expected the question. "No need to fret, Mr Wood, switched students can play for their original house teams. Otherwise, they are expected to wear new house robes, sit with their new house at meal times, and will be staying in their respective new common rooms."

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. At least Quidditch was on the table.

"But since you're paying attention, Wood, I'll have to mention that the next switch is you and Cassius Warrington."

Oliver didn't even know what to think when he heard her say those words, and watched in horror as the scarlet on his robes melted into green. On the other end of the room, Warrington looked furious. 

 _'Me too._ ' Oliver thought sourly, as he mockingly saluted the Gryffindor table, picked up his stuff and plopped himself between Fred and Hermione. 

"Thank Merlin for small mercies." Fred breathed. 

"Harry Potter and Graham Montague."

This had to be a sick joke, really. Oliver hadn't expected them to go that far, but they'd taken Gryffindor's golden boy and put him in green robes. Harry looked slightly ill when he he saw Snape smirking greasily down at him from the professor's table. 

Oliver realised that McGonagall hadn't switched all the big names in Hogwarts, but rather had switched them so they were in the same house. Poor Ron and George Weasley uncomfortably made room for Blaise, Warrington, Montague and Daphne.

Down the table, Marcus watched on thoughtfully, if not a little warily.

* * *

For the rest of their meal, Oliver, Harry, Hermione and Fred sat huddle together, glaring at the side eyes from their new housemates and complaining. 

"This is absolutely ridiculous." Hermione ranted, slamming her fork down. "This is stupid. Now Slytherin's going to get all my house points, and they're going to lynch me for being a  _mudblood._ " She directed this last comment at Draco Malfoy, who was sitting diagonal from her next to Astoria Greengrass. He chose not to grace her with a comment, and instead flipped her off.

"Don't say that!" Astoria interjected quickly, at Oliver's surprise. Hermione directed her angry glare at her, and the blonde girl wilted a bit. "I mean- not  _all_ of us think that way. And some of us-" she elbowed Draco, who yelped- "are being forced to change their minds. I hope you know that."

Hermione's eyes softened a bit, though the irritation was still there. "Yes, of course. Thanks, Greengrass."

She groaned. "Please, call me Astoria. It's a little harder when there's two of us." She was referring to her older sister, Daphne, of course.

"I feel that." Fred said grumpily. "Try having five family members in the school at the same time."

Theo Nott, who was sitting next to Hermione, cut in finally. "Weasley, since you're a Slytherin now, would you be willing to prank Bole?"

The ginger boy perked up slightly at that. "Well, aren't you a shining example of a good Slytherin! Yes, that sounds lovely." He simpered. 

Oliver was a bit confused at how pleasant Astoria and Theo were being, and how Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had refrained from saying a negative word the entire meal. Of course, he expected some drama later, especially from how nastily Harry was eyeing Draco.

He glanced at Marcus, who turned to him at the same time. All Oliver could do to hide his blush, embarrassed at being caught, was flip two fingers.

It wasn't going to be dandelions and rainbows at  _all._

* * *

Oliver's assumptions rang true as soon as they were about to enter the Slytherin common room for the first time. 

Harry, the little shit disturber, snippily asked Malfoy, "is the password still  _pureblood_ or have you changed it to something a little less brainless?"

Draco's mouth fell open, and his neck almost snapped as he turned to look at Harry. "How the fuck did you know that?"

"Won't tell." Harry said, with a smirk that didn't cover his dislike for the other boy. 

"Potter, have you been in here?" Pansy asked, not aggressively, but her voice shook a little.

Draco stepped closer to Harry. "How. Did. You. Know?"

"Oh, you don't remember?" Harry said, and Oliver's headache was back in full force. Harry was a very pleasant boy, extremely polite, hard working, but Draco Malfoy always brought out his ugly side.

"You brought me in here yourself! Only, Ron and I were polyjuiced into Crabbe and Goyle. When you were always nattering about the Heir of Slytherin bullshit. You talk about me an awful lot, even when I'm not around, hm?"

And Oliver couldn't say he wasn't expecting it, but he still groaned when Draco launched himself at Harry and swung. 

"Stop it! Stop it!" Pansy screeched, pulling at Draco's robes unsuccessfully. The fight continued, and Oliver, who had wisely decided that if he got involved, he would become another target of McGonagall's tirade.

Then again, he couldn't afford for Harry to be in detention for practice. 

"Flint." He said warily. "You  _accio_ Malfoy, and I'll grab Harry."

Marcus glared at him, but nodded accordingly.

The fight was over as quickly as it had begun, and Harry was squirming in Oliver's grasp while Malfoy tried to lunge out of Flint's.

"You're a fucking cunt." Draco said to Harry, once Marcus let him go, and he walked into the common room, the rest of the Slytherins filing in after him. His hair was ruffled and curled, and he had a busted lip and black eye. Harry's nose was bleeding profusely, and was nursing a sore arm. 

Finally, it was just the Gryffindors, Theo Nott, Astoria Greengrass, and Marcus Flint left outside. 

"Come on, Granger, it'll be Parkinson, Bulstrode, Tracey Davis and me in your room. They won't bother you as much if you're with me." Astoria murmured, and Hermione smiled gratefully. 

"Yeah, Potter, you'll be rooming with Malfoy, Goyle, Crabbe and I." Theo said gruffly. "I know you can protect yourself, being the Saviour and all, but Goyle could probably finish you off by sitting on you."

Harry unwillingly followed, and so left Fred, Oliver and Marcus Flint. 

"Well, where the fuck is  _my_ escort?" Fred joked pompously, and when he was met with no laughs, he walked in, determined to find his own way. 

"Well, Wood, come on." Marcus said irritably, and Oliver got a full look at the common room for the first time ever. 

It was- well- very green. The underwater green light from the lake gave Oliver a good look at the mermaids and other scarily beutiful things int the water. The stone walls were covered in tapestries and candles. The fireplace was large, and around it were big green armchairs and couches.

His room was plain. The beds had green velvet curtains and white bedspreads, and luckily enough, his was  _right next to Marcus'._

Urquhart, Higgs and Bole were the other three roommates, and they looked at him with hostility, and Oliver couldn't help but think McGonagall had gone around the bend if she thought this was a good idea.

"I won't cause trouble." Oliver said tiredly. "I don't want to be here as much as you lot don't want me here."

That seemed enough to satisfy them, and they went back to reading their mags and finishing homework. 

"Hope you don't snore, Wood." Marcus said, flopping onto his own bed and drawing the curtains. 

* * *

Oliver didn't sleep a  _wink_ that night, fear that he'd be attacked in his sleep, and as a result almost fell asleep into his porridge.

"You alright, captain?" Fred chirped, looking much too happy for the circumstances.

"Are  _you_ alright?" Harry said. "Why are you smiling?"

Harry's nose had bruised wonderfully, and his glasses were crooked atop it. He looked as if he hadn't close his eyes at all, and one look at Draco Malfoy, who was asleep on Pansy Parkinson's shoulder, told Oliver exactly why.

"Adrian Pucey is quite the sweetheart, when he's not on the pitch, after all!" Fred waved at his new roommate, sitting further down the table, with the rest of the Slytherin quidditch team. He waved back, and threw a bit of toast at him with a friendly smile. "Wonderful, isn't he?"

"Well, go give him a snog, then." Astoria mumbled, and blushed when they began to laugh. 

"I might just!" Fred declared, but instead went to go chat with George over at the Gryffindor table.

"Wonder how everyone else is holding up?" Hermione poked her head above her massive book, which was propped up against a jug of milk. "Looks like Ron and Zabini are slightly awkward." 

Oliver turned to see Ron and Blaise having a truly uncomfortable chat, with Dean and Seamus making comments here and there. "Well, can't help to feel bad for Zabini, we're in the same boat, after all."

He jumped at the sound of McGonagall's voice behind him. "Very good, Mr Wood, already beginning to see you all aren't so different after all. Ten point to Slytherin."

Harry grimaced. 

"Potter, why is your face bruised?" She said, and Oliver felt rather bad for Harry. He was toeing a dangerous line.

"I tripped on the entrance." He lied, pretending to look glum and embarrassed. McGonagall chose to ignore Draco's busted mouth as well.

* * *

The next trouble Oliver had was the next day, in class. It was an only Slytherin class, which meant he was alone. And it was  _Defence._ Oliver could only think this was what hell must be like. 

"Good morning, class." Lupin said warmly, and Oliver felt a little relieved. Lupin was a good man. He'd protect Oliver. He would be safe here.

"We'll be doing some light duelling to warm up, so I'll be partnering you up."

"Higgs, Bletchley."

"Wood, Flint."

After he heard that, he realised that Lupin was as terrible as McGonagall.

As Lupin rattled through the other pairings, Oliver felt an increasing sense of doom once again as Marcus sent a nasty look his way. Yeah, Marcus had been held back a year, but because of that, he had more experience, had to do more studying, and was not as dumb as he once was. 

In short, Oliver was fucked. 

"We'll go partner by partner, and audience can give feedback, yeah?" Lupin said. 

Higgs and Bletchley lasted a bit, but the latter was no match for the agility and speed Higgs had. Oliver was surprised to see Higgs use wandless spells when he'd been disarmed, and Bletchley's creative stream of spells, one after the other. 

"Excellent duel, boys. Feedback, class?"

Then it was Oliver and Marcus' turn. Looking at the jeering faces of his new classmates, Oliver felt completely and utterly alone. 

"Bow."

They locked eyes and bent. Marcus' eyes were a cold, slate grey. 

"Shake."

Marcus' grip was tight, but Oliver was shocked when it wasn't the knuckle breaking intensity it was like when they shook before matches.

"Assume the stance."

This was  _so_ not cool of Lupin. 

And they begun.

Oliver had to throw up a shield immediately when Marcus sent two spells his way. He bore down on it, and Oliver had to think fast. He ducked under a spell and finally shot one back. 

If he didn't win, he'd be ridiculed and disrespected more than he already had.

It was spell, after spell, after spell, after spell. A stinging hex had caught Oliver in the shoulder, and he hissed, but kept going. He did get Marcus back, though, with the exact same spell. 

It finally ended when Marcus lost his wand and Oliver got his wand to his throat before Marcus could retrieve his own.

They hadn't broken eye contact the entire time, now panting and sweating and a  _little too close for comfort._

Oliver stepped back, and Lupin applauded. 

"Brilliant work, Mr Flint, Mr Wood."

And Oliver finally decided to look away.

* * *

By the time lunch rolled around, Oliver was exhausted, but in a better mood. The duel he had gave him the oppurtunity to let all his anger and discomfort go, and he had a fresher, more open mind.

Hermione, however, looked worse for wear.

She wasn't someone that Oliver knew very well, or had talked to much often, but she was Gryffindor, and therefore, a newfound friend of Oliver's. She was also very smart, for a third year, and probably knew a lot more than Oliver. She was at about Percy's level, really.

"What's wrong?" He said, as he sat down across from her. Harry and Fred hadn't arrived yet.

"Parkinson blew up my cauldron in Potions." She said glumly. "It's the first time my cauldron's ever blown up. Snape was furious at me."

Oliver smiled. "He's furious at everyone, all the time. And Parkinson's a twat for doing that. Besides, everyone knows you're incredibly bright. Don't worry about it too much."

Hermione still looked glum, but smiled at the compliment. "Thanks, Oliver."

Fred came in looking gleeful. "Hello, Hermione, hello, Captain, guess what I just did!"

Hermione groaned. "Oh no, what did you do?"

"He turned Bole's robes into a pink swimsuit!" Theo Nott came in snickering, and the two of them fell into uproarious laughter. Down the table, Bole looked at them annoyedly.

Oliver was glad that Fred was making friends. He knew that the twins could fit into Slytherin qualities easily. They were cunning, ambitious, and certainly had a lot of cheek.

* * *

The practice Oliver held after school was uneventful, but it made him miss the familiarity of Gryffindor. Twenty four hours without it and he'd been moping the entire day. 

Angelina, Katie and Alicia had asked him plenty of questions, but he'd shooed them away, not in the mood to discuss his rooming situation and how suddenly he would think of Marcus Flint at random times of the day. 

Harry, too, had gotten a lot of questioning, especially since he was rooming with his worst nightmare. He and Malfoy had been sniping at each other all day since the fight, and Oliver was sure it wasn't going to be the last. 

When practice was over, Oliver overheard the girls talking.

"Well, you know, Malfoy and Harry probably like each other, with all their pigtail pulling. Boys don't know any other way, really." Katie whispered. 

"I mean, probably, they're obsessed. Harry's always raving about how much he  _despises_ Malfoy, how he's so  _arrogant_ and  _cocky_ and his stupid hair is always slicked back-" They broke into a fit of giggles.

"They remind me a bit of Ollie and Flint." Angelina said, and Oliver froze. "Ever since they started playing against each other they're always bumping each other in the corridors and saying adorably rude things on the pitch, trying to get each other's attention. Makes me wonder-"

Oliver chose to turn away at this point, to make his way back to the Slytherin dorms with Harry and Fred. 

He and Marcus were  _so_ not like Harry and Malfoy. 

What he and Marcus had was not  _obsessive_ , nor was it  _romantic._ It was a rivalry. Those were natural, and it came with the sport they played. 

Oliver bit his lip.

* * *

Oliver killed time by studying. Drawing up plays. Chatting with Fred, Harry and Hermione. 

They had their own space in the common room, and the Slytherins and them had a silent agreement to leave them alone. Sometimes, Astoria, Adrian and Theo would sit and chat with them. 

Marcus had stopped bumping Oliver in the hallway, and Oliver decided that flipping him off wasn't a very good example for everyone. After all, he needed a good reference letter from McGonagall, and he'd have to suffer to get it.

"You lot aren't so bad." Pucey had said grandly, after Harry had told a funny story about Snape. "I mean, I wish the rest of the house would get on board. I heard Blaise, Cass, Daph and Monty are doing fine."

"That's because Gryffindors are  _nice._ " Hermione chided. "Ron also is missing Harry a lot, and turns out he and Zabini have a lot in common."

"They did get into a nasty fight, at first." Fred said. "Zabini said something unpleasant about being a Weasley, and you know our darling Ronniekins, so loyal to our ginger clan." 

"And then they shook hands, and played a good game of wizard's chess." Harry finished. "Zabini is a better opponent for Ron than I am." He sounded a bit sad at that, but only for a moment. 

"Anyways, I think they're beginning to come around, I mean, Malfoy hasn't said anything nasty in an hour!" Pucey said cheerily. Draco overheard.

"Don't fucking tempt me, Pucey."

"There's the boy we know and hate." Harry muttered, a bit loudly, and scowled. "Why does he have to be such a pretentious prick?"

"Well, I don't know, Potter, why do you always have to be such a holier-than-thou kiss ass?" Draco snapped back. As they both stood up, Marcus and Oliver got there before anything terrible happened. 

"Malfoy, watch it." He grabbed the collar of the younger boy. "Don't start shit."

"Harry started it this time." Oliver glowered at him, who had the decency to pretend to be ashamed, at least. 

When the boys went back to their respective spots in the common room, Oliver asked Marcus to have a chat. 

"I think we need to figure out a way to keep them out of fighting. It's not a good look for the house, and if they're injured, they can't play." Oliver explained anxiously. He didn't know where the nerves were coming from- he was trying to set a good example for Harry, he supposed, talking respectfully with a rival. 

_"They remind me a bit of Ollie and Flint. Ever since they started playing against each other they're always bumping each other in the corridors and saying adorably rude things on the pitch."_

"I know what you mean." He crossed his arms, still looking a little defensive. Marcus had a deep voice, with an undertone of an accent. Welsh? Something like that. "I'm a bit sick of this fighting lark. I have to study, don't need a bunch of my team moaning to me about Gryffindors all the fucking time. I mean, you guys haven't started that much shit. Only Potter, but that's because he's got some fucking _thing_ with Malfoy."

"They're so stupid. Everyone knows it as well. So what do you suggest?"

They thought on it a bit. Oliver felt the curious eyes of his housemates bear holes into his back, but he kept his attention on Marcus. He still had crooked teeth, but he didn't smile very often, so they couldn't be seen. He had a very square, sharp jaw, and Oliver could see the muscles clenching as he thought.

"Seeker practice?" Marcus suggested. "Hold them back for half an hour and let them get it all out on the pitch. We could suggest practice scrimmages to McGonagall, as well. Have a Gryffindor and Slytherin team versus a Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw team. Then everyone will have to get to know each other. Doesn't have to be often."

Oliver thought it was a good idea. It probably wouldn't work out, but they'd try it. 

"Brilliant. We can chat with McGonagall about it tomorrow. After Potions?"

"Alright Wood."

When Oliver made his way back to his little group, they waited expectantly for him to tell them why he and Marcus were chatting amicably in the middle of the Slytherin common room. 

"Just trying to figure out some ways for people to get along." He shrugged. 

"Oh, more details,  _please_!" Fred begged.

Oliver smiled. "It will involve quidditch, Harry, and Malfoy, and that's all I'll say."

Against the protests of his friends, and the louder ones of Harry, he walked into his dorm and decided that maybe studying would get his mind off everything.

* * *

Marcus and Oliver walked silently to McGonagall's office together. People watched them in the corrdiors, curious as to why one of the school's worst rivalries wasn't acting up, but they had more important matter at hand. Oliver supposed he and him were having some sort of unsaid truce.

"Professor." He began. "Uh- Flint and I have been noticing that the dynamics in his-  _our_ \- our house have been still very negative, and we have some ideas to close the divide."

"What are you suggesting?" She said, interestedly. 

"We were wondering if it were possible to join Slytherin and Gryffindor into a team, and Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw, for a friendly scrimmage. The teams will get to know each other, and I think everyone is aware of how much sway quidditch has in the student population." Marcus said quietly.

McGonagall thought on it, and she smiled. "I'd like to say how very proud I am to see the two of you come together to find solutions. I'm sure the administration can figure something out. Twenty points to Slytherin." At Oliver's aghast look, she added. "And ten to Gryffindor, for no reason." She winked at him. "Now get to class. Keep this up."

* * *

Oliver and Marcus had booked the pitch for Draco and Harry's first seeker practice, a couple hours after class. Oliver had brought down his playbook and a pen to have something to do instead of watch them the entire time, and saw Marcus already there with his own homework around him. 

"Alright, Harry, Malfoy." Oliver said quickly. "I'll release the snitch into the air. Give it 30 seconds, and then you go. We'll be keeping count of how many each of you get. This is not a one off training." 

They nodded, looking a little grumpy, but complied. Soon, they were off, and Oliver watched them for a few minutes. 

"Potter's good, but so is Malfoy. He didn't just buy his way onto the team." Marcus commented from next to him. 

He had ditched the heavy school robes and just wore the white button down, tie and slacks. His tie was loose and sleeves rolled up, looking a little tight for his large frame. The Slytherin crest glinted in the light. 

Oliver had just opted for his Gryffindor quidditch sweater and sweatpants, and felt a little self conscious, for what felt like no reason at all.

"Yeah, I know. Malfoy's first game was a disaster. I heard about the lashing you gave him afterwards."

Marcus shrugged, and crossed his arms again, like he seemed to do whenever he spoke with Oliver. "He deserved it. Egging Potter on when the snitch was right next to his ear, I almost threw him into the fire."

Oliver snickered, and Marcus uncrossed his arms. 

It was twenty three minutes till someone had caught the snitch. Shockingly, it was Malfoy. 

"Don't look so surprised." Malfoy snapped at Oliver. "Your Golden Boy isn't always going to win." Harry sneered, but his heart wasn't in it, disappointed that he lost.

In Oliver's opinion, he sounded very jealous. So he released the snitch again, and went at it. 

"Malfoy's a dick, but he's just a boy." Marcus said noncommittally. His eyes followed the two boys in the air. "His father's not the best influence, and he's got a lot of expectations."

"Well, how many?"

"For starters, Lucius was furious that Malfoy was second in every class to a muggle born. Then, he was _more_ furious when he was the second best seeker to Potter. He went on a tirade when Gryffindor won the house cup. And finally, he's already nagging Draco about finding a nice pureblood wife."

Oliver stood silent, shocked. He knew the Malfoys were hard on their only son, but he didn't realise the extent.  

"It doesn't help that he already spends hours in the library, basically listens to every piece of advice I give him, and can't single-handedly win the house cup. And he's obviously bent." 

In fact, Oliver was beginning to feel a little sorry for the shithead. 

"Doesn't change the fact that he's an arse, but he'll grow up soon. Especially when he and Granger are getting partnered up in every class."

Finally, Marcus made eye contact with Oliver. "So if you keep Potter off his dick, I'll keep Malfoy from pissing you lot off, and we can go on with life. Can't be stuck held back another year because I had to run around chasing swotty third years instead of studying."

Oliver could see Marcus was slightly embarrassed at caring about Draco, and was trying to cover it up with self preservation. 

"Deal. Also, a galleon Harry and Malfoy get together before year is up." 

Marcus quirked his eyebrow and the corner of his mouth lifted, making Oliver feel something jump in his stomach. "No way, they're going to need another two at least, they're only third years. You're on."

And right on time, the two younger boys came down, Harry victorious this time. 

"You're done now- this time again in two days." Oliver said sharply, and ignored their grumpy looks.

* * *

The first interhouse training- in short- was a disaster. 

To begin, their robes were  _hideous-_ green and red combined making them look like bulls in a Christmas shop. Then, Harry and Draco got into a fight- again. Pucey, Higgs (who had become a chaser, after getting robbed of the seeker spot) argued with Angelina, Katie and Alicia about starting spots on the team, and finally, Oliver was feeling a headache come on. 

"You lot!" Marcus roared, Oliver wincing at the volume. "Shut the  _fuck_ up!"

It worked, though, and the two teams sheepishly quieted down under the livid glares of their captains. 

"We've already  _discussed_ starting teams." Oliver said. "So don't you worry about it, alright? You're here to learn to play with each other- we don't doubt that you're all brilliant players. It's rolling subs, as well."

"Starting lineup is as goes for the first game- Wood as keeper, the Fred Weasley and Warrington as beaters, Pucey, myself, and Johnson as chasers, and Malfoy for seeker." 

Harry looked as if he was about to protest, and wisely decided against it after a scathing look from Oliver. 

"If you have any complaints.." Marcus finished. "We don't care. You'll all play. This is so you lot stop bitching in the common rooms and such. If you want to win, you'll have to get along, and if you don't, you're on bludger duty."

When everyone started their warm up laps, Oliver pinched his nose, a feeble attempt at getting rid of his oncoming migraine. "This is going to be horrible."

"I'm not losing to a bunch of 'Puffs, Wood," the other boy snapped. "Off you pop, you have practice to hold."

They put the starting lineup against the substitutes for a practice scrimmage, and turned out that Angelina fit into the Slytherin chaser sequences like a dream. She even earned herself a clap on the back from Adrian, which she returned hard enough to knock the breath out of him. 

"Always been a bit scared of her myself," Adrian said, still cheerful. "Bletchley didn't stand a chance."

Harry and Draco, with renewed competitive spirit, whizzed around the pitch. Harry was playing rough, bumping Draco and cutting him off, but Oliver surprised himself with how proud he was that Draco was holding his own.

After a shockingly satisfying practice, Oliver and Marcus dismissed the team, and went to go give the balls back to Hooch. 

"That wasn't so terrible." Oliver mumbled. "Angie and Fred played great with you guys."

"Obviously." Marcus drawled, sounding alarmingly like Snape. "The Quidditch cup has been held up by Slytherin or Gryffindor for fifty years. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw should be shaking in their boots."

Oliver didn't mind playing with Marcus, instead of playing against him, this time. After all, they were two of the best players the school had seen in years, and putting them together was only strategic.

* * *

Oliver and Marcus fell into a simple routine. They weren't friends or anything- they barely knew anything about each other- but they weren't enemies anymore. Acquaintances, perhaps. After all, they had to spend so much time together organising the team, training Draco and Harry, and drawing up plays to practice.

Oliver was relieved that he could speak to someone with the same athletic ambition, and sometimes found himself enjoying the times where they'd be arguing over strategies in the library, till Pince had to come and shush them. During these sessions, Oliver had noticed that Marcus had a scar on his lip, and his grey eyes had flecks of blue in them, and that Marcus' brow would furrow when he liked an idea.

"Wood, I can't believe you're not seeing how  _terrible_ of an idea that is." Marcus said, as Oliver pushed another sketch towards him. His brow, however was furrowed, and Oliver knew he was onto something.

"It's not  _terrible,_ it's  _risky_ , and we can take our chances on a weaker team. 

"We can consider it, wanker."

And really, that's how most of their conversations went. 

Oliver was able to fall asleep in the dormitories, now, as well. He was able to exchange meaningless jibes with Montague, Higgs, and Bole now, and they'd steal his quidditch magazines sometimes, but he always found them returned, not a fold or rip in a single page, laid neatly on his pillow. 

Draco and Hermione had begun a very shaky truce, consisting of them working on homework together- this was because they had more of it, and it was harder. That's what they got for excelling, Oliver guessed. Marcus hadn't been joking when he said that Draco was only a little behind Hermione in each class. 

With Hermione and Draco being acquaintances, Harry and Draco were forced to spend more time together, especially at mealtimes, when Hermione would sit with Draco to discuss Charms, and Harry would sit glumly in silence as they nattered. 

"Is it just me, or is Parkinson looking a bit jealous of Hermione right now?" Fred asked Pucey conspiratorially, who had sat with them at mealtimes more often than not. 

Adrian chuckled. "You know how she is. Draco and her have been inseparable since birth. It’s not romantic though- you know how Draco is, and Pansy chases the occasional skirt.”

Fred guffawed at that. "Shocking. Did you know in the muggle world, homosexuality isn't very popular?"

Astoria had a double take at that. " _Really?_ Why not?"

"Muggle religions, family values, yadda-yadda-ya." 

"The only people really against that are pureblood twats- the whole 'needing a heir' thing, of course." 

"Poor Malfoy." Fred said, and they broke into laughter. 

Oliver saw McGonagall looking at them, a triumphant smirk on her face, and scowled a bit. The old bat  _couldn't_ be all right with the house unity thing. They were just making the best of bad circumstances, obviously. 

A look at Marcus smiling at the end of the table had Oliver know in his heart that that wasn't true.

* * *

A month into being a Slytherin, Oliver had his first interhouse match.

He had only let in 8 balls, and Malfoy had gotten to the snitch before Chang. Marcus, Angelina, and Adrian played beautifully, and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stands were barely audible over the screaming and cheering of the Slytherins and Gryffindors. 

Marcus had been right- if there was one thing that could unite the student population, it was quidditch, he thought as he watched Pansy and Dean Thomas raise a large green and red banner together. 

When they won, they all came together in a group huddle, with even Harry cheering after Malfoy had made an excellent dive for the snitch. A warm feeling niggled in Oliver's chest when he saw Fred and Warrington grab each other into a bear hug. 

He approached Marcus carefully, who was flashing another rare smile, crooked teeth and all, and Oliver's warm feeling spread a little more. 

"Good job, Flint, you were brilliant." He said, and he stuck his hand out for a shake. Marcus didn't hesitate before he grasped it, and it was reminiscent of the one they had before the duel. 

"You too, Wood. You're not half bad." 

They grinned at each other for what felt like just a second and-

"God, just  _snog_ already, you two!" Alicia catcalled, and Oliver withdrew his hand and blushed, flipping her off. 

"Party at the Slytherin common room tonight!" Higgs crowed. "Gryffindor team members allowed, but nobody else."

"Booze?" Katie asked excitedly, and whooped when Higgs nodded. 

"Giggle water for our young seekers, though." Fred ruffled Harry and Draco's hair, the latter not too pleased with his perfectly coiffed hair being messed with. 

* * *

Oliver found himself the least stressed he had been in a while, in the Slytherin common room, of all places. He was nursing something spiked, and a little too sweet, but he didn't care, as long as the light buzz in his head stayed. 

He watched as Hermione sniffed her gigglewater before sipping it, and then beginning to loosen up. Good for her. The stress she put herself through with schoolwork couldn't be good for her.

Across the room, Fred and Adrian were singing a bad rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody (because Freddie Mercury was  _not_ a muggle, against popular belief). Terence Higgs pretended to conduct them, which was highly entertaining to watch. 

"Bet you didn't know Pucey and Higgs are crushing on each other." Someone said from next to him. 

Oliver whirled around to see that Marcus was comfortably sat about two feet away from him, them being alone together on a couch.  _A loveseat._

"No?" He said faintly. 

"Contrary to most schoolwide opinions, Slytherins have feelings too." He took a sip from his cup, not breaking eye contact with with Oliver. 

Oliver felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he nodded along. "Interesting. Care to make a wager on how long till they get together?"

Marcus' mouth quirked. "A galleon. I give it three weeks."

Oliver gasped. "Risky. I say two more months."

"We're on." He said, and he got up to get a refill of his drink, leaving Oliver to his own devices- his own devices being  _panicking._

' _Oh dear, I think I might have feelings for Marcus Flint, that can't be good.'_ He thought to himself anxiously. Then he thought, ' _who are you kidding? You've been thinking about him for months.'_

 _'No, this is just the whole house unity thing. It has_ not  _been months!'_

_'Don't lie to yourself. You couldn't keep your eyes off him if you tried.'_

With that thought, Oliver glanced to where Marcus and Angelina were amicably chatting, and tried to tear his eyes away. But he looked  _good._ And he couldn't deny it. 

Not anymore.

* * *

Slytherins were actually very fond of Christmas, as Oliver learned. 

He woke up, the weekend before they parted for break, about a month and a half into the house switch, bleary eyed, and got dressed. He walked out into the common room to see Adrian Pucey and Pansy Parkinson charming tinsel up onto different parts of the cold common room. 

"Morning, Wood." Adrian said, using probably the most overused joke Oliver had ever heard all his life, and chuckled as if he was the first. "Nice shirt."

Oliver looked down to see that he'd embarrassingly picked out a shirt that said ' _I'm a Keeper,'_ and blushed.

Pansy sniggered, but without malice. "Wood, I'm going to need your help." Oliver looked at her warily. "I'm gonna need to sit on your shoulders. These flowers aren't in the position they're supposed to be and they're not working with magic. I'd ask Flint, but he's gone for a fly."

Oliver evaluated his options: say no, and feel her wrath, or say yes, and be helpful. He decided that the latter was probably the best. 

"Up you pop, then." He sighed, and kneeled so she could clamber on. 

Harry chose this moment to walk into the common room, and raised an eyebrow at the sight. "Isn't this a sweet display of house unity! Oh, cool shirt, Captain." 

"Shut your trap, Potter, and go hang some mistletoe or something. Make yourself useful." She said snippily. "Wood, a little to the right, please; don't flip Potter off, you're moving your shoulders.."

Pansy weighed practically nothing to Oliver, so he was able to successfully manoeuvre her around the room, fixing some poor charmwork, and cleaning parts of the room that required some more up close and personal love. 

Soon, Hermione, Terence, Fred, Astoria, Theo and even Draco were helping decorate the room, as well as some other Slytherins Oliver didn't know. Draco sat on the floor (the floor!) by the radio, trying to get it to only play Christmas carols, with books spread all around him. Hermione joined him, and soon the room was filled with intellectual discussion about the effects of magic on originally muggle objects, and Celestina Warbeck's crooning voice. 

Marcus finally joined them as Pansy fixed the last bit of tinsel in the corner, on top of Oliver's shoulders. 

"Flint!" Pansy said crossly. "Where have you been?"

"Trying to avoid what you're submitting poor Wood through. Nice shirt, by the way." He grinned, and Oliver blushed, regretting his shirt choice more and more as time went on. "I brought floating candles though. Nicked them from the Great Hall." 

And Pansy forgave him. "Granger!" 

Pansy and Hermione, who hadn't talked very much since the house switch, seemed to have some sort of agreement, which made sense as Hermione and Draco had a budding friendship. Oliver was a little nervous for if Hermione and Pansy became friends- they’d rule the world together.

"I need you to get on top of Flint and help light these candles."

"Why not do it with magic?" Marcus asked, looking a little alarmed. 

Hermione answered instead. "It's dangerous to light candles from long distances." She said primly. "I don't weigh much. Get down."

Now, this was a sight McGonagall would have cried at gleefully if she saw. Pansy on Oliver's shoulders, Hermione on Marcus'. Fred had replaced Hermione with helping Draco fix the radio, and Draco actually  _cheered_ when it stopped playing the same song over and over. Harry was trying to charm more chairs into the room, and Terence helped him when Harry dropped a loveseat on his foot. 

"Parkinson, help me out." Hermione said, and Oliver had to move closer to Marcus till they were shoulder to shoulder, so Pansy and Hermione could charm the candles into floating in a slow, warm pattern. Marcus was pouting at having a bossy little Gryffindor on his shoulders, and Oliver couldn't help but laugh sympathetically, till Pansy whacked him for moving her.

"Warning!" Adrian announced, after fixing the doorways. "There is magical mistletoe under every single doorway in the dorms! Unless you'd like to snog your mate, be careful!"

Fred groaned. "Don't tell them!"

When they were finally done, the room made Oliver feel a little less homesick for Gryffindor. It was still very green, yes, but it was warmer, with the candles and lights floating in the air dreamily, and tinsel covering all the cold corners of the room. There was less space, because of the new chairs and carpet, but it felt more cozy than overcrowded. Pansy shook his hand after she got down from his shoulders, saying something about how "not all Gryffindors are useless, I guess."

"Bossy little women, the both of them." Oliver murmured to Marcus, who had just received a lecture about taking floating candles from the Great Hall.

"They're going places." He said, not without fondness. "You going home for the hols?"

Oliver sighed. "Dunno. It's my last year here, and I want to spend as much time here as possible. Might go home for Christmas Eve and Day."

Marcus nodded along, and Oliver's eyes were drawn back to the scar on his lip. 

"Where did you get that?" He blurted, regretting instantly the natural impulsiveness being Scottish had instilled in him. "The scar. On your mouth."

Marcus brushed a thumb over it, looking surprised at the question. "Don't you remember? You're the one who gave it to me."

Oliver wracked his brain for any memories of hitting Marcus in the mouth, and could only be disappointed when it narrowed down to literally every fight the both of them had ever taken part in. 

"You were in third year, I was in fourth. I may have said something nasty and you jumped me." Marcus smirked. "Flighty little thing, you were."

Oliver's mouth dropped indignantly. "Was not! You probably deserved that scar, then."

"I probably did." He admitted. "I was picking a fight. Not every day a keeper comes along that blocks almost every shot I make."

Oliver blushed at the implied compliment, and the warm feeling that had been present in his chest for the past few days spread a little more.

* * *

The first victims of the mistletoe were caught in the doorway two days after they were put up, and it was none other than Adrian Pucey and Fred Weasley. This was ironic, as they were the cheeky pranksters who set them up. 

"Weasley, you fucking ponce!" Adrian had bellowed, successfully gathering the attention of everyone in the common room- which was quite a few people. "We talked about this, like,  _three_ minutes ago!"

"I thought I was supposed to walk in first!" Fred snapped back. Adrian groaned, and Oliver doubled over in laughter. Terence Higgs, however, was turning a shade of puce. 

"Merlin, let's just-" Adrian choked. "-get it over with. Doesn't have to be a snog, does it?"

"The mistletoe will only make you snog depending on how necessary it is, and will not make first and second years snog." Hermione catcalled, a rare show of love for practical jokes. "Unless you two have some mutual secret feelings for each other, a peck should do."

"Where is Creevey when we need him?" Draco moaned, watching on with a smirk. 

"Fuck you all!" Fred announced. "And sorry, Higgs, doll, but I have business to attend to-" And with that, he pecked Adrian on the mouth, and walked into the common room. Terence had went from red to pale in a matter of seconds, but Adrian didn't seem to put together what Fred had said, and just spat, pretending to be disgusted.

The entire room was howling with laughter, of course, and Oliver caught Marcus' eye across the room, who pointed at Terence and mouthed the word, " _jealous."_ He smiled back.

He could only hope that if they were ever stuck under the mistletoe, they wouldn't have to snog. 

* * *

Oliver would have to find out, because just  _hours_ after Adrian and Fred were caught under the wretched plant, he got stuck with none other than the only object of his affection and attention. 

Marcus  _fucking_ Flint.

They had walked through the doorway together, distracted as they discussed how Harry and Draco were beginning to tolerate each other. The duo had spent classes, practices and evenings in their shared dorm- it was only realistic that they learned to relax. They'd followed the example of Ron and Blaise, who had become proper friends, bonding over large families and chess. 

It was then that Oliver and Marcus found themselves tugged back under the doorway, and the only thing Oliver could feel was fear- especially when he caught Pansy's eye, who grinned wickedly, and loudly directed everyone's attention towards them. 

"Flint and Wood are stuck!" She pointed dramatically.  "The horror!"

He tried to gage some sort of feeling from Marcus; whether it was disgust, anger, embarrassment, or possibly- possibly something  _positive_?

That was just Oliver being hopeful, though, and he couldn't tell anything from the taller boy's well constructed poker face. After a couple second of uncomfortable eye contact, he had to look away, and was sure everyone could see the flush creeping up his neck. 

"Well go on, I have to go to the library." Draco, who was not in the mood to watch the two captains necking it, said huffily. "Granger's going to get her knickers in a twist if I'm not there in five minutes."

Oliver forced himself to look up (not very far up- Marcus was only an inch or two taller than him), and asked, "you alright?"

Marcus shrugged. "Just a peck, yeah?"

He visibly exhaled, and Oliver felt the warm breath against his face, and leaned down for a quick peck, and Oliver' could only just barely feel his chapped lips and scar against his own mouth, gone as quickly as it came. Around them, people cheered, and Draco expectantly waited for them to move.

Oliver tried walking away first, only to feel the ugly tug in his gut that pulled him back to the doorway, and everyone stopped cheering immediately. The room was in dead silence; like watching a car wreck, they wanted to look away, but couldn't, eyes stuck on the disaster that unfolded.

"Oh." Draco breathed, and moved away from the two, quickly, so shocked that he backed into an astonished Harry, who didn't push him away, so amazed that he just put a hand on Draco's back, as if it could steady him, no, the  _both_ of them, after seeing such a revelation.

_"Unless you two have some mutual secret feelings for each other, a peck should do."_

Mutual. The feeling was mutual. 

Marcus, however, looked aghast, paled, obviously upset, and Oliver's heart just _dropped_ like a weight in the water.

The former glared at the people in the room, and they all made themselves scarce, scurrying into their rooms and dragging away the people that were slow on the uptake. Harry pulled Draco out of the room by the back of his robes.

Oliver didn't know what to say. His mouth decided that "uh" was a good word. 

He didn't say anything for a bit, trying to deduce what Marcus couldn't put into words. From his blank face, his clenched fists, and his lip bitten raw, it wasn't good. When he finally said something, Oliver had already known that the other boy's mind was made up.

"I do  _not-_ " Marcus whispered "-have feelings for you. Get that into your emotional, Gryffindor brain. This mistletoe is a fucking  _mistake_. Understand? I _don't_." 

Oliver didn't even have time to nod before he leaned in, no questions asked, no answers given. Oliver couldn't bring himself to meet him halfway.

And this time, it was slower, and Oliver licked the scar on his mouth that he put there, he couldn't help himself, and it still felt too fast- but Oliver wanted it to be fast, because when Marcus said " _I do_ not _have feelings for you_ ," it punched him in the stomach harder than any bludger could. 

"I did it because I can't be standing in a doorway all day. You're nothing to me but a rival player." He said in quiet anger, looking more like he was trying to convince himself, but it was the final nail in the coffin for Oliver. "Don't talk to me, don't look at me, just-" his voice cracked, and he got even angrier "-leave me the _fuck_ alone."

Gone as quickly as it came, Marcus turned and walked out of the doorway, leaving Oliver standing there, miserable, but not really knowing why. He'd done it to himself, after all, falling for Marcus  _Flint._

* * *

The pair danced around each other for the rest of the week before leaving for home, and every time Oliver walked into their shared dormitory, the curtains were closed, or in the process of closing. 

During interhouse trainings, Marcus wouldn't speak, just stand at least three feet away from him in front of the crowd, glowering. Nobody dared to say a word that wasn't about quidditch to the either of them. 

The news had travelled fast, and soon all Oliver heard about when he travelled through the halls was titters and whispers of " _he and Flint-"_ and  _"they like each other"_ and it felt like too much, too fast, and he had never been so miserable, not even when they had lost the Quidditch cup finals. 

 _That_ was saying a  _lot._

Even professors knew from the tension that surrounded them that partnering them in class would be a terrible, terrible idea, unless they wanted death, destruction and pain to follow. 

It was such a desperate situation that Harry, Draco and Hermione, three  _third years_ had cornered him in the library, sitting him down and lecturing him. 

"This is  _not_ the Oliver Wood I know." Harry had started dramatically. Oliver opened his mouth to shout at him for being a nosy shit, but Madam Pince sent him a scathing look, and he decided maybe he could listen. 

"Look, you're a Gryffindor, which instantly puts you on my shit list-  _ow,_ Granger, I'm not finished- but you obviously mean something to Flint. And now he's broken. What did you do to him?" Draco said.

"Well, we're not standing in the same doorway still, are we? Take a wild guess." Oliver snapped. 

"Yeah, you had a snog, you have feelings for each other, why can't you sort it out?" He pressed. 

Oliver wasn't in the mood for this. "Dunno, why don't  _you_ sort  _your_ feelings out."

The blonde blushed, but surprisingly retorted with, "nice first year comeback, Wood. We're trying to help."

"Be nicer about it, wanker." Harry shot at him. "Cap, we just want to help. You haven't been yourself. It's your last year and we know you don't want any distractions from winning the Cup." 

Oliver groaned. The Quidditch Cup. He needed to win that. But how could he when all he could think about was how Marcus had rejected him. 

"What exactly are you sad about?" Hermione chided, not being too pushy. "If you can pinpoint it, maybe we can come up with small solutions."

"He fucking ran off after we kissed." Oliver grumbled, slightly embarrassed to be venting about schoolboy crushes to kids four years younger than him. "He told me he didn't have feelings for me, and the mistletoe made a mistake. Then he kindly told me to leave him the fuck alone"

"Well obviously that's wrong." Hermione said promptly. "Fred charmed it himself. He's pretty good at that type of thing. I even checked for him. There's no way the mistletoe would make you kiss with tongue unless it felt like you guys could do with it. Sentient magic of a sort."

"So he's embarrassed." Draco frowned. "Or scared."

"Probably both." Harry finished. "I can see why it would be confusing."

Oliver was astounded. "You.  _You_ could see why it would be confusing." It was a well known fact that Harry was the least observant person in the history of the Wizarding World, so  _this_ was definitely a noticeably and important situation. 

"Yes, me." He said impatiently. "Hermione explained it to me. Let's assume he didn't like you until you moved into Slytherin. He's starting to develop feelings for his so called rival. Then, he has to work alongside his so called rival about every day, then dorm with him as well. He realised how much in common you both have, how much time you wasted hating each other and it becomes a little overwhelming, but not too much. People don't know that he's into blokes, and maybe  _he_ didn't even realise he was into blokes. You know how Slytherins are emotionally constipated-"

"Hey!" Draco interjected, but he was blushing slightly, eyes widening; obviously something he said resonated with him. Harry kept going at full speed. 

"-So now that his secret's out, not just to the guy he likes, but to  _everyone_ , that's scary for him. He doesn't know what to feel, and thinks the best way to deal with it is to get rid of it. Getting rid of feelings means not interacting with you, speaking, looking and hearing you as little as possible." He finished. 

Then Hermione started. "Now, let's imagine he's liked you for quite a bit now. He's been letting these feelings fester inside of him, not a single person to talk to about it. He can't let on that he likes you, so he hates you in public. Nobody suspects a thing. Then, you moved to Slytherin, and he's forced to interact with you, and he can't be mean to you. It's a good oppurtunity to be nice to you, because now that's what people expect to see. But to him, it's a one way street. Now, after pining for all this time, he finds out that it's mutual, but it's in public, he wasn't ready for it, and so on. Overwhelming, confusing, scary. Get the point?"

Oliver's mouth had fallen open sometime between the Harry's spiel and Hermione's lecture, and he was stunned. 

 

"Well aren't you three clever?" He said faintly. 

"It's just good for you to know." Draco said. "Flint's a tough bloke, but it doesn't mean he's incapable. He cares about shit too. Everyone knows it's the same with you too."

For what reason Draco was trying to get Oliver back on his feet, he didn't know. Maybe it was because if Draco didn't go back home with the house cup to his house's name, his father would lash him. When he saw Hermione pat Draco on the shoulder proudly, and Harry giving the blonde a small smile, he knew maybe it was something else.

* * *

Christmas and New Years Celebrations had kept Oliver from thinking too much about anything Marcus related, but now that he was back in Hogwarts, he was back to thinking about his plan of action. 

Corner him in the dormitory, when Terence, Bole and Uruqhart were away? 

Maybe not- Marcus wouldn't hesitate to try and fight him, with nobody watching. 

Ask Snape to partner them in class, and they could discuss while brewing a potion?

Oh, they'd blow it up before they even started. 

Write him a letter that said " _TALK TO ME, YOU FUCKING GIT, I LIKE YOU"_?

Hah, fat  _fucking_ chance. 

So he pondered it for a few days, under the expectant eye of his three third year mother hens, who waited patiently for their shit to be sorted.

Oliver didn't feel it was fair, that he was the one chasing Marcus when he had his own rights to being upset, and he was tired of running after him, like a lovesick puppy. So he didn't.

It was three weeks after the break, well into February, the third month of the house switch, when Oliver finally spoke to Marcus- except it was Marcus who had approached him, two weeks after Oliver decided he didn't need to go to Marcus.

Marcus could come to  _him._

And he had.

Marcus sat down at his table, in the corner of the library where he pretended to study but was really daydreaming about supper, and he'd jumped up in surprise at the book bag slamming onto the table.

When Oliver saw who it was, all his planned speeches and dialogue flew through the window, and he managed to dumbly say, "hi."

"I'm sorry." Marcus blurted, who looked like his brain was going much faster than his mouth, and he blushed. "Uh- I'm sorry for saying all that shit in the- uh- the doorway." 

Oliver blinked a couple times, before he recognised that Marcus was  _apologising,_ and he knew he'd done something wrong. Which he _had_. 

He was surprised at how angry he was, and the wince Marcus gave didn't do anything to stop him.

"Well, you better  _fucking_ be."

Oliver let all the nerves and worries he had for Marcus go, and it was  _his_ turn to be upset. It was  _his_ turn to speak. 

"Do you know how much I've _beat_ myself up over this? How many people have come up to me and asked me what went on, why you wouldn't speak to me, why the interhouse team can't train properly? Do you  _realise_ how  _miserable_ I was, after being so hopeful for so  _fucking_ long and just have you toss me to the side like a fucking  _broom_? Hermione, Harry and  _Malfoy-_ yeah,  _Malfoy,_ had to tell me why you were being a prissy little bitch. We have a _team_ to manage, we are  _seventh years_ , we need to  _set an example_. I'm not going to make decisions for you, but in case I haven't made it clear enough-" Oliver had leaned over the table to grab Marcus' collar. "I like you, a lot, maybe _more_ than like you, Marcus Flint. Have so before I moved to this shithole of a house, before McGonagall preached about this interhouse unity crap." Pince was beginning to walk their way, looking thunderous. "Don't blame me for the shit that goes on in your head. I'm not the one lying to myself."

His own face was one of incredulous anger- he had stomped down all of his own feelings for the benefit of worrying about the ones of Marcus. Marcus looked shell shocked, eyes wide and he visibly gulped. It gave Oliver a sense of satisfaction, to finally tell someone what  _he_ was thinking.

Oliver didn't realise how much he'd said in the span of a minute, and how he'd admitted that he'd been crushing on Marcus for more than the past three months, maybe loved him, and even used his first name for the first time in his life, but he didn't bother to think about this when he grabbed his stuff and stalked off, passing Pince who tried to berate him, too emotional to be articulate.

* * *

 

Oliver sunk into more wallowing after the blow up in the library, which rumours of had quickly spread through the school like wildfire. When he relayed what happened to Harry, Hermione and Draco, they understood.

(Well, Draco had been miffed that his own captain got told off by his rival team captain, but a quick cuff around the head from Harry and he'd shut up.)

They won their next interhouse match, but not by much. It wasn't the landslide win that they'd had the first time around. 

Adrian and the rest of the Slytherin House that Oliver could now consider friends were sympathetic, but they couldn't take sides- Marcus, ultimately, was their captain, and they owed it to him to stick with him. 

McGonagall had tried to inquire as to what happened to the dynamic between everyone, even naming him and Marcus as examples, but Oliver sat in silence when asked, not wanting to repeat what had replayed in his mind over and over out loud. 

Marcus hadn't tried to approach him, avoiding eye contact when he could- it was obvious to everyone that this time, it was Oliver who was angry, not Marcus.

' _Why couldn't I fall for a nice, sensitive person?'_ Oliver thought to himself miserably, watching Marcus fly.  _'Why not some sweet girl from Hufflepuff, or an Adrian Pucey type of bloke.'_

He knew, from that niggling voice in his head, and the dread that had settled in his stomach, that there was no Wood without Flint. There had always been some part of him that was hyperaware of Marcus- knowing where he was, who he was with, how to make him angry, and so on. 

_"They remind me a bit of Ollie and Flint. Ever since they started playing against each other they're always bumping each other in the corridors and saying adorably rude things on the pitch."_

It's just how things always were. How could he deal with the change?

He moped. He flew more. He threw himself into studies. 

Didn't quite help, though.

* * *

 

It was the last month of the house swap that someone had thrown a flower at Oliver's head.

It was quite heavy for something not too big, two purple hyacinths held together by a red ribbon, with a note attached in messy scrawl. 

" _I'm sorry._ " 

Oliver knew who had thrown it, and looked to him. 

Marcus, however, did not show any signs that it was him, wasn't even looking at him. Oliver continued to stare, rubbing the tips of his fingers on the petals. They were delicate- he didn't rub too hard. When Marcus finally looked at him, he quirked an eyebrow. It felt like a challenge. 

So Oliver flipped him two choice fingers, and went on with his meal. Hermione told him that the purple hyacinth was asking for forgiveness.

He kept the flowers in his pocket for the rest of the day. He didn't interact with him in the dorms that night, but just looked and felt the flowers behind closed curtains on his bed.

The next morning, another floral package hit him in the head, this time square in the face. They were a bunch of white poppies, bright and soft. He looked at Marcus again, who once again, just raised an eyebrow. 

He learned that white poppies were a symbol of peace. The note read, " _I don't want to fight with you._ " 

Then, it was pink peonies. It was the same reaction from Marcus every day, indifferent. People were starting to talk. Hermione had loaned a book from the library talking about the spiritual meanings of flowers. Adrian and Fred would wink at him whenever his head got assaulted by flora. 

" ~~ _I like y_  ~~  _You know what this means. Ask Granger."_

Pink peonies were flowers you'd give to your crush, he'd learned. To say he blushed was an understatement, and Pansy laughed endlessly at his red complexion.

The day after, it was carnations.  _"I miss you. You know why._ "

Oliver was starting to have a growing bouquet, which he kept a secret, behind closed curtains. He'd charmed them to stay alive longer. 

On the last day, it was red roses, and everyone sitting around him gasped. There was a note enclosed, but Oliver already knew what it said. He didn't need Hermione to tell him what red roses meant. 

 _Everyone_ knew what red roses meant. 

And Oliver did something very Gryffindor- as if his Slytherin robes were going to change that- and he walked over to the other end of the table, where Marcus was sitting with all of his teammates, who had been watching for his reaction, and plopped himself into Marcus' lap. Hermione had squealed and clutched Draco immediately, and he didn't react, just watched with wide eyes.

" _Oof._ " Marcus grunted, but didn't push him away. Oliver was pleased to note that he wrapped his arms around him instead. 

"You're an idiot." Oliver said promptly. "You piss me off, a lot."

And he kissed him soundly, and the Slytherin table erupted, gaining the attentions and whispers of the rest of the Great Hall. 

When they broke apart, Oliver smiled. "But I love you too."

As he got up to leave the Great Hall, he caught McGonagall's eye, and she smirked at him, and mouthed, " _30 points to Slytherin._ "

He was happy, now.

* * *

 

_Epilogue_

"Don't make me do this." Marcus groaned. 

It had been a month since Oliver moved back into the Gryffindor dorms, along with Fred, Harry and Hermione, but it had been bittersweet. He wasn't surprised at how he'd gotten so used to the Slytherin rooms, and maybe would miss it. 

( _Definitely_ would miss it.)

But Marcus and Oliver still saw each other plenty, sharing the pitch for practice scrimmages between the two houses. He often went to the common rooms, welcomed by the friends he'd made. Blaise and the Slytherins that had become Gryffindors frequented the Gryffindor tower as well.

"You owe me." Oliver said firmly.

They were in the Slytherin common room, sat on the loveseat. Across the room, Adrian and Terence were snogging- that was one galleon that Marcus owed Oliver. 

Then, there was Harry and Draco. 

Who had walked from class to the common room together. 

Holding hands. Laughing. Blushing.

Which meant Marcus owed Oliver  _another_ galleon. 

"Oh, the beauty of young love." Fred sighed, who was on his way out. "Sickening." Then he had dropped his voice and whispered to Oliver, "Hermione and Astoria will be next, you wait." 

The two in question were sat together on another couch, giggling and whispering together. They had become very close friends, and there was something about the way Astoria and Hermione interacted that reminded Oliver of Harry and Draco now. 

"Give me my fucking galleons." Oliver said pompously, and grinned when Marcus rummaged through his robes for two gold coins. 

Marcus reluctantly handed them over, but smiled when Oliver cheered, pocketing them. 

"Never thought the old bat would be right about the house swap." Marcus admitted, grabbing one of Oliver's calloused hands, worn down by years on the broom. It mirrored Marcus' own. "But look at us now. Soft for Gryffindors." He looked at Draco, but not without fondness.

"But aren't you glad she was?" Oliver smiled goofily, eliciting a snort from his boyfriend. 

Marcus pulled him closer. 

"Of course I am."

_-fin-_


End file.
